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Post by Moro Ashford on Feb 26, 2010 23:25:03 GMT -5
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.
Glassy silver eyes watched the tennis ball leave her fingers, bounce off the opposing wall, thud back into her palm. Leave her fingers, bounce off the opposing wall, thud back into her palm. Over and over, a tireless repetition.
It had been three days since they'd lost Kami, in which time Moro had spent in recluse, wandering the mall with her shotgun and picking off the random infected that happened to wander in. She had barely spoken to any of her comrades and spent most of her time avoiding them altogether, going to lengths as far as dragging her bedroll into Dick's Sporting Goods and spending the nights there. She'd barely eaten, couldn't sleep, lying awake at night and staring at the cracked ceiling, fearing succumbing to the sickness in the night and tormented endlessly by her guilt.
It was her fault Kami had died. They were safe, here in the mall, safe as the apocalypse would allow. They'd laid low, set up a fortress...it was Moro who had lured them out, brought them to danger. She had thought she'd taken the precautions, she had thought they were safely asleep, her exit quiet....
"They weren't supposed to follow me!" she growled between her teeth, hurling the ball at the door with violent force; it ricocheted to her left and bounced quietly away, lost in an overturned rack of sweatshirts. The silence that accompanied its departure was suffocating; weakly, Moro closed her eyes and let fall her head against the wall she leaned against, raising her palms to her eyes. She was a plague; she gave half a thought to ending her torment herself.
At that precise moment there was a sudden humming, a deep thrumming from all around. As the mechanic listened, it neared, until the very floorboards on which she sat were vibrating with energy. Slowly, she let fall her hands from her face, blinked open bleary eyes.
It took a minute for her starved mind to process.
And then she was on her feet, sprinting out the door.
Glass from the splintered front doors fell away in tiny shards as ripples of wind pounded the asphalt of the parking lot; shielding her face with her hands, Moro squinted up at the shadow descending from the skies. Her throat was dry; it was several seconds before she found her voice.
"H-hey! Hey! Down here!" the young woman ran forward, waving her rifle over her head. "We're not infected!"
It didn't matter that they were already landing, that there was no way that the pilots could possible hear her over the din of the helicopter's blades- the sudden, overwhelming relief that absorbed her nearly brought her to her knees. She watched the bird touch down, and four men in biohazard suits leapt out.
Before Moro could alter the weary grin on her face the engine cut short, and there were four tips of assault rifles in her face. "Drop the gun and hands on your head," demanded the tinny voice of one of the men.
The mechanic's smile faltered; she blinked in confusion. "I-I'm not going to shoot you...."
"Do it now!" prodded hard in the chest, Moro stumbled a step back, mouth faintly agape in disbelief.
"Wait a minute-"
"Lay down your arms!"
"-you're supposed to be helping us-"
"Listen, bitch, you do this now, or we're going to riddle you full of holes and leave you here."
"Okay! Okay," Moro cried; carefully, spiteful gaze never leaving the masks of her should-be rescuers, the mechanic stooped and set the rifle on the ground. The man at the head of the party nodded.
"Good," he said, "hands on your head, Carrier, and turn; slowly." Flicking him a last dirty look, Moro obeyed, taking hesitant steps forward back toward the mall when she was prodded sharply in the back. They passed through the cracked doors into the vacant hallways; Moro wondered if her friends had heard the copter and were running to where they were now.
"What makes you think I'm a Carrier," she asked them coldly, leading them nowhere in particular. The men had flanked so that she was in the lead, the barrel of the first man's gun at her back. A silent prayer went out to her comrades; please don't shoot.
"Your arms look like they've had a run-in with a Hunter," responded one of the men.
"Ah, that- yeah, fell down the stairs once," Moro mocked dryly. "Clumsy me. What exactly is wrong with being a Carrier, now?"
"They're no better than a damned zombie, 'cept instead of looking like one, you pass the virus without anyone knowing."
"Hum. Guess you're not going to enlighten me on your Carrier policies, then, are you? Anyway, where the hell were you guys? Aren't you supposed to be around to save our asses?"
"Listen, girl, we've been doing more work than you know. Helping folk all over the place. So why don't you just shut your mouth and keep walking?"
"...uh huh. And you just happened to stop here."
A frustrated sigh let Moro know she was accomplishing her goal of bothering them to wit's end. "We're almost out of gas, 'kay? Now will you shut up?"
Moro shrugged and fell into a pensive silence. She rather hoped the CEDA people found their gas and left, with or without her; she wasn't sure a run-in with her people would be a good idea.
...Actually, it'd probably be a very, very bad idea.
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Post by Shane Richardson on Feb 27, 2010 0:01:18 GMT -5
Heh. Who knew that girl had good music on here? Shane thought to himself as he skimmed through the songs on Kameko’s iPod that he had stolen. He was currently lying next to Keith in the safe room located inside Sport’s Authority. Out of all the others in the rag-tag group of survivors Shane liked Keith the most. Everybody else was too serious and boring. Keith on the other hand was a barrel of fun. The two shared many similar likes. The only thing that bothered Shane was how that Tara ogled around Keith like some caterpillar to a leaf.
She’s so obsessed with him, Shane rolled his light brown eyes. It’s a little pathetic now.
Sighing the black-haired boy got to his feet. Making sure nobody else was noticing, he left the safe house and took in a big breath. Just as he was about to choose a new song a low hum caught his ears. Looking up alarmed, Shane’s eyes sparkled in hope when he recognized the sound of a helicopter.
Getting excited he ran off to get the helicopter’s attention. He was finally going to get away from those idiots, save Keith. As he burst out the mall, he skidded to a stop as he saw the shape of Moro. Four men in biohazard suits were standing in front of her and pointing their rifles at her. Anger built up in Shane’s veins. He didn’t like Moro all that much but he especially didn’t like it when a man disrespected a woman. And these CEDA people just crossed the bad side of him.
Heading back into the mall quietly, Shane pushed open the door of the safe room forcefully. It hit the wall with a bang that would surely wake up the others.
“Okay guys. There’s a helicopter out there.” He raised a warning finger at them. “Don’t go all getting your underwear in a bunch out of excitement. Not to be a boner kill or anything, but these four CEDA dickheads spotted Moro and think she’s a Carrier or some stupid shit like that. She’s in trouble so unless we do something I’m pretty sure they’ll kill her.”
He paused for a minute to think up a plan. Thanks to his high intelligence one popped up in a flash. He jabbed a finger towards Tara.
“Sweetie, you’re going to be distracting those CEDA people got it? Go out there and say that you’re a Carrier. I don’t care what you plan to do just make sure they’re distracted.” Shane then pointed his finger at Mason, Roy, and Keith. “Meanwhile Mason, Keith, and I can sneak up behind them and knock them out. Pray to god Moro catches on and knocks out the last one. While this is happening Roy, I want you to take whatever they got on ‘em. Who knows? It may come in handy.”
With that said and done, Shane quieted to hear the others reaction to his plan. He felt proud of himself for coming up with something so brilliant.
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Tara Luketic
Junior Member
Witch Hunter and Pack Rat
Posts: 71
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Post by Tara Luketic on Feb 27, 2010 3:53:32 GMT -5
Tara, by this point, had been able to get some fresh clothes and dump her old ones. She now wore black Nike sweatpants, a white tanktop, a gray Nike hoody, and a brown Nike hat; hey, it was a sports goods store. Her nose had fully healed up and her leg was almost completely healed; it still stung a bit and caused some irritation, and she'd have a scar, but at least she could run again. Thanks to a decent amount of rest and a pretty steady stream of food from the food court and food stands in the mall, Tara was a happy camper again. That is, until someone slammed open the safehouse door so badly that she screamed and rolled out of her sleeping bag.
Groaning, she let out a large yawn and rubbed the sleep from her eyes with a fist as she propped herself up on an elbow. "What the fuck was that?" Eyes fully cleared, Tara glanced over at the door and instantly rolled them, pressing her face back into the soft material of her sleeping bag. It was just Shane, that apathetic asshole whom she'd formed a love-hate relationship with. It was mostly hate, though, seeing as they only got along when they were both being an ass.
The "hate" part mostly consisted of his emotionless, stoic, apathetic attitude toward everyone and everything and how chummy he and Keith had become. So yes, Tara was a little jealous, even if the relationship was obviously friendly. It mostly irked her that he seemed to like Shane and enjoy his company more; not that she vied for Keith's attention or anything. She wasn't some lovesick schoolgirl anymore, nope, not a chance, no way, no sirree Bob. He just... reminded her of her relatives. From Kentucky. Yeah, that's it.
"What is it, Shane?" Tara groaned, face still buried in her sleeping bag as she listened to him speak. She didn't even believe him when he said there was a helicopter, but as he continued to speak she started to take him more seriously. After all, she didn't trust those military bastards or CEDA, so she could completely see such a situation happening. Tara lifted her head in time to see a finger shoved in her direction, and Shane rambled off some instructions to her.
She blinked a few times as the words processed in her head, simultaneously listening as he gave the guys similar instructions. Sitting up, she sighed and pulled her hair out of its ponytail, grabbing a brush from her purse and running it through her dark brown locks. "So. You want me to be the distraction, huh? All right. I can understand that, seeing as I suck in a fistfight. However..." Tara frowned and sent him a light glare, momentarily jabbing her hairbrush in his direction.
"If I get shot for acting like a Carrier, I'm going to come back as a Witch and shred your ass to pieces," she finished seriously. Hair fully brushed out and untangled, she swiftly pulled it back into a tight ponytail and slipped on her hat, putting the brush back into her purse. Tara got to her feet, dusting herself off a bit and stifling another yawn. "Ready to go when you guys are." If she didn't die, she was going to enjoy watching those CEDA bastards get their asses handed to them.
"Hey, maybe we can steal their chopper, too. That'd be kickass."
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Post by Keith the Great on Feb 27, 2010 20:53:45 GMT -5
Having no qualms over sleeping in every day they hung around the mall, Keith had taken a spot next to the wall, settled himself comfortably and lay down for a good night’s sleep. Vaguely, his drowsy mind noticed that his neighbor, Shane (who didn’t get along with everyone but got along with Keith well enough), had gotten up and left. However, it would take a lot more than a friend going out for a walk to get the Southerner up and awake; he simply rolled over and mumbled “fi’ more min’s.”
What seemed to be about five minutes later, a ‘slam’ loud enough to contest gunshots broke through Keith’s dreams and woke him up with a shout: “I di’nt do it, Officer! I swear!” Upon noticing that he wasn’t talking to a member of the police force (at least, he was pretty sure Shane wasn’t a cop), the hobo shrugged and grinned as though nothing had happened. “Ne’er mind.”
Keith listened patiently to Shane’s announcement and plan. He didn’t bother getting excited over the helicopter, both because Shane shot down any hopes quickly and because the only people he knew with helicopters were the guys back at that Seda company. Needless to say, Keith wasn’t too fond of them. Back down in what he’d thought was Tennessee, they’d nearly shot him to death just because he’d wanted a ride on their helicopter. Fortunately, he’d played dead quickly and managed to survive with only a couple bullet wounds.
Excited at this opportunity for revenge, Keith grinned as Shane wrapped up the plan. “Sounds like a plan, pal!” he chirped. “I got a li’l problem with your chivalry, sendin’ th’ lady out into danger an’ all, but if she agrees, I ain’t gonna complain.”
Fortunately, Tara didn’t have a problem with it. “Alright then, Tarrie. All you.” He smiled at her, trying to mentally wish her luck (though he was the last person who would have enough luck to share). “Worse comes t’ worst, just kiss someone. I ain’t never met a cop who didn’t drop his train a’ thought once someone started kissin’ someone.”
His advice given, the hobo’s mind immediately shifted to Tara’s comment about hijacking the ‘copter. “I completely support stealin’ the whirlybird,” he declared, as though his opinion rose above all others. “I can drive one a’ those things, too. M’friend taught me.”
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Post by Mason Breaker on Feb 28, 2010 15:44:54 GMT -5
Mason was in his apartment's living room, lounging in his couch, watching the rain fall outside. Dahlia was quietly sleeping on his lap, leaning her head against his large chest, her bear close to her chest. His wife was leaning against him, sound asleep as well. It was times like this that......
Wait. His wife? And daughter? In their apartment? Something was very off.....
A low growl filled his ears. Turning to look at his wife, he realized that she was now staring at him, her skin miscolored and bloodied. Dahlia was gone, but her panicked screaming was coming from everywhere. In an instant, infected burst in the room, his wife pinning him down as he was torn apart.... --------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mason woke with a start as Shane burst into the room, saying something about Moro and a helicopter. However, mentioning Moro being held at gunpoint was enough to rouse him out of his sleepy state. Listening to Shane's plan, Mason surprised himself, and possibly everyone else, with his next statement.
"Good plan, lad."
With that said, he rose to his feet, grabbed his shotgun, and went for the door. He could hear Moro and her captors talking. He wasn't sure what they were planning to do, but he wasn't waiting, especially since they were already in the mall.
"Tara, go ahead. And remember, take it easy, don't run at them with your arms waving around. Talk."
Before that, however, he had one last issue to cover.
"Keith, are you serious about the helicopter, or is it another one of your stories?"
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Roy Bivenmeijer
Junior Member
"Because I'm used to killing animals"
Posts: 76
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Post by Roy Bivenmeijer on Mar 1, 2010 19:51:27 GMT -5
The door slammed, interrupting Roy's daydream. he'd been back in his cabin in the woods, nothin bothering him. Any zombie in the area was picked off at his own leasure, and his massive food stockpile made survival an east thing. Not enough victims around to draw a Tank, not enough unknown space for a humter or a charger to hide. Easy pickins and easy living.
" Roy, I want you to take whatever they got on ‘em. Who knows? It may come in handy.” This from Shane, Mr. Man-of-action
It was a nice thought. Knock out the gaurds and get Moro back in a glash of gallantry. But in Roy's mind, there was a much easier way. "Why don't we just kill them. We've picked up enough hunting rifles from the WallMart to safely snipe everyone and be on our way. No chance for reaction unless someone misses." A lot less complex, alot cleaner. Roy patter the barrel, which he'd scavenged from the local Trader Joe's, that now contained all of their extra guns. "Whatever, I'm going to kill anyone trailing..."
Roy brushed past Shane, Thirty-aught-Six slung across his shoulder and a pipe bomb at his hip. He watched the CEDA guys troop Moro toward him. The new sheath on his machete (which had also, conveniently, been at the Trader Joe's. Go figure) eleminating most chances for stabbing himself in the leg and alerting anyone(thing) of his preasence, he croucned, keeping a gun trained on the Haz-mat wearing enforcers. before passing them completely.
He kept to the afternoon shadows cast on the malls eastt side, making his way to the north enterance where the men were marching in from. There, Two more men stood gaurding the Helicopter. Were the others to attempt to sneak up, these two would surely see them. Pulling his machete, he wondered how it would feel to jam it through live flesh. Probably just a little worse then shoving it into a decaying body...
With it, he widened the grate a bit on his right, prepared to slide down if he needed to, fully prepared to stab one of the men. He leveled the hunting rifle over the railing, careful that it didn't shine in the sunlight, and level'd the scope on the closer of the two rear gaurds. Hopefully being watched, he threw up an OK to the others and peered into the scope.
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Tara Luketic
Junior Member
Witch Hunter and Pack Rat
Posts: 71
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Post by Tara Luketic on Mar 1, 2010 20:55:35 GMT -5
Tara flushed lightly when Keith mentioned Shane's plan of sending her out as a distraction, the crushing part of her mind taking it as his concern for her safety. She smiled back at him, turning slightly more red and desperately covering it up with a fake yawn. Of course, at his advice, she broke out into a few quiet giggles and grinned broadly. "Right. I'll keep that in mind, Keith." Tara wasn't even sure if doing so was possible, though, seeing as those CEDA guys usually wore hazmat suits.
At his statement that he could fly a helicopter, she was instantly reminded of the van incident. "Oh no ya don't! I am NOT reliving another van incident! If you even try getting in that pilot's seat, I'll throw you out of the helicopter and leave your ass here!!" she snapped, eye involuntarily twitching. One could safely say that event had severely scarred Tara, which was a hard thing to do when one was surviving a zombie apocalypse. Sighing, she turned her attention to Mason, and nodded appreciatively at his much more lucrative advice. "Thanks, guys. I'll remember all that. And Mason, don't believe him. If he can't even drive a van, then he can't fly a damn helicopter," she stated seriously.
Tara was about to head out when Roy suddenly prattled off his own plan, simply shooting and killing the CEDA men. Normally, she would have agreed without a second thought, but the fact that Moro was with them made it too risky. "Roy, I don't think-" Before she could voice her opinion, he was out the door, and she frowned worriedly. "Roy!" Tara called, then remembered the situation they were in and changed her volume to a loud whisper. "Roy!!" she hissed.
He obviously hadn't heard her, and Tara's fists clenched in slight anger at being ignored. Running after him, she wound up coming out just as he'd positioned himself and was giving them a thumbs-up. Confused by his strange angle, she frowned and did a quick look around from her vantage point. It didn't take her long to see the two rear guards, making Tara gasp and quickly trail after Roy through the shadows. Coming up behind him, she quickly tapped him on the shoulder and leaned down to whisper.
"Roy, just be careful! If you shoot one of them, they'll probably shoot Moro, and me if I'm down there. Listen, when the guys come out, point out those two to them first. They'll find a way around them and once they attack those three, you can pick off those two easy. Okay? Just stick to the plan for once!" she hissed. That settled, Tara swallowed down her nerves and made her way back toward the escalator so that she could head down and play her part. 'Okay. Just walk down there and pretend to be relieved that you found Moro and some help. Then just play along and keep them distracted. Easy enough...' she thought nervously.
Of course, it was never that easy for the accident-prone teenager; though hers were usually far less injury-inducing than Keith's. Pausing on her way to the escalator, Tara leaned over the nearby balcony to double-check on her targets' location below. However, she didn't realize that it was ready to fall to pieces from horde attacks until a loud creaking filled the mall, followed by the sound of tearing metal. Shocked as her only support suddenly fell away to smash into the ground, she stepped back in an effort to hold her balance. Luckily, Tara's foot had slipped into some loose wire from this movement, saving her from sure death as she tumbled forward over the edge of the second floor.
"AAAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHH- OOF!! Uhhh.... huh?" She abruptly stopped screaming as the wire ceased her fall a few feet above the ground, leaving her stuck upside-down in mid-air. Right in front of the CEDA men and Moro. "Um... oops? Heh heh... please don't shoot me," she whimpered sheepishly.
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Post by Keith the Great on Mar 1, 2010 22:02:47 GMT -5
Keith’s first order of business was to turn to Mason and answer his inquiry. “I am absolutely goddamn serious one-hundred per-cent of th’ time.” Considering he had so far given out three last names, mummified a teammate, and bombed a conversation via stories about Georgia with questionable amounts of truth in them, that one statement said a lot about the homeless daredevil.
Ignoring the issue of the helicopter for the moment (a good enough costume would get him past Tara), the hobo watched Roy completely disregard the previous plan in exchange for one that replaced the ‘non’ in ‘non-violent’ with ‘completely and totally without any regard for human life.’ Feeling that this plan was going to require some back-up somehow, Keith retrieved his trusty Hunting Rifle (complete with all his friends’ names etched into the side) and jogged over to the door to watch. Tara had ducked out to whisper determinedly to Roy (Keith hoped it wasn’t about arranging his own death) before continuing on her distraction plan.
Said plan then failed more spectacularly than Keith’s camping expoits.
The Southerner winced, watching as the girl (who was his friend, but had also nearly killed him on several occasions) dangled from the wire just above their enemies. Determined to do something (he’d had enough chivalry jokes drilled into him back home to know that one didn’t sit back when a lady was at gunpoint), he slid over to Roy’s hiding spot and took aim. “Ready when you are,” he mumbled. Determined as he was, he wasn’t going to shoot someone unless he was darned sure he had enough backup to not get shot himself.
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Post by Moro Ashford on Mar 2, 2010 16:11:56 GMT -5
"AAAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHH!"
The entire party came to a dead halt as the yell broke the pained silence; Moro winced as the barrel of the gun was shoved harder into the back of her neck. There was a flurry of movement ahead of them and a few of the CEDA personnel stumbled a step back- and then Tara hung in front of them, wearing a mingled expression of surprise and embarrasment.
"Um... oops?" she whispered. Moro inwardly slumped, letting her head fall forward. "Heh heh... please don't shoot me."
The man at Moro's shoulder huffed. "Get her down from there," he barked; helpless to do anything but watch, the mechanic stood by as two of the men moved forward and untangled the girl from the cord wrapped around her ankle, a third keeping his gun trained on her every movement. There was a sharp tug on the back of her head as the leader seized Moro's hair; with a soft cry, the mechanic was wheeled around to face him.
"You didn't tell me there were others," he said quietly.
"There aren't," Moro said between gritted teeth, hunched under the awkward hold. "It's just me and my sister." Hey, they looked similar enough, right?
The man's eyes searched her face coldly; with a sharp movement, he swing his attention over to Tara. "You- how many else are there?"
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Tara Luketic
Junior Member
Witch Hunter and Pack Rat
Posts: 71
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Post by Tara Luketic on Mar 5, 2010 7:02:44 GMT -5
'Well, they didn't just blow my brains out. I suppose that's as good a start as I can get from this sort of entrance,' Tara thought with a sigh as the two CEDA men untangled her from the wire. Needless to say, they weren't exactly gentle or careful, tugging at the thing so much that she thought they'd remove her ankle with it. "Ow, ow, ow.. owowow.. ah!" She gasped as the wire suddenly came loose, neither of the men attempting to catch her as she faceplanted the ground.
Groaning, Tara didn't resist as they forcefully pulled her to her feet, shaking her head a bit to clear away the fog. As soon as she was standing, they let go of her, but she did feel the barrel of a gun press into her back. Eyes widening, she glanced over her shoulder to see the assault rifle and instantly put on a sheepish grin, holding up her hands in surrender. "Sorry for, uh, dropping in on you guys like that. It's dangerous in here, ya know? Heh heh..."
Hearing the other man who had stayed with Moro address her, Tara blinked and turned to face him with a frown. "Else? It's just us. We've been here for a few days, and there's definitely no one else around. Well, unless you count the zombies," she answered with a shrug.
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Roy Bivenmeijer
Junior Member
"Because I'm used to killing animals"
Posts: 76
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Post by Roy Bivenmeijer on Mar 5, 2010 17:11:27 GMT -5
"AAAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHH! Um... oops?"
The scream kept the rest of the troopers from hearing Roy's outward groan as Tara fell. Not only did it screw things up, but it reminded him of Kameko and her typical clumsiness. Keith distracted him at least a bit, and training two guns on the two backup men was even better, especially if Mason and Shane jumped the other three at... pretty damn soon.
What was worse, at the scream, the other two CEDA ageants, though they were probably no less than hired thugs, began advancing toward Tara. On the upside, the origional three were split up, with two helping Tara down and basically attending to her and the third a sitting duck if Mason were to emerge from the shadows.
Roy Sucked in a breath and pulled in the stock of his thirty-aught-six tight to his shoulder. He released half of his breath and got ready to pull the trigger. No, not pull. Pulling was too jerky. He would ever so lightly squeeze the trigger, allowing his molten lead shots to hit their target's within an earthworms arse of his scope's center. With his left hand, expendable at this very moment, he pointed to the two excess troopers and motioned the others foreword. He only hoped they were within view, so his fancy shooting wouldn't go unnoticed.
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Post by Mason Breaker on Mar 5, 2010 17:30:38 GMT -5
Mason groaned at Keith's honesty claim, seeing, expecially since the one of the first things that he had said was, indeed, a wild story. The irishman had every right to not believe him, and an even greater one to make sure that the hobo was nowhere near the cockpit of the helicopter. If they actually planned on using it, that is.
When Roy declared that picking off the men with rifiles was a better idea, Mason would have disagreed. He hated shooting from long distance, he wasn't what you'd call a "marksman". However, seeing as Roy could provide some valuable cover, he let him be, silently hoping that he wouldn't actually start firing. Tara seemed to be concerned about it as well, but seemed to change her mind.
And then she blundered. Royally. The escalator railing gave way, sending her tumbling to what may have been death. However, he exhaled when he heard her nervously talking, and judging from the other men, was now being questioned. And apparently Moro's sister. Might as well be, they looked so much alike....
Keith was next to go out, crouching by Roy. Clearly, he was waiting for an opportunity. Mason wasn't. Creeping out of the safe room as well, he noticed that the way the men were standing, if something were to suddenly crash into them......
He decided something heavy was needed. And he decided that he was heavy enough. Creeping over to Keith and Roy, he whispered to them. "Kay lads, when I give the signal, get to work, alright? You'll know what it is, trust me. Lemme handle their boss."
With that said, he went back into the safe room, retrieved a bat, and crept out to the top of the escalator, and, content that they wouldn't see him coming, took a deep breath.....
And jumped. Yes, he jumped. And landed right on top of one of the CEDA men with a loud "GAH!" from the unfortunate cushion. Quickly regaining his composure, he quickly stood up, clobbered the man holding Tara at gunpoint with the bat and sending him down to the floor, and turned to the one holding Moro. He glared at the man, as if condemming him for threatening her.
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Post by Keith the Great on Mar 5, 2010 23:07:35 GMT -5
Keith knew for a fact that he wasn’t very good with signals. Dave had once tried a tactic similar to Mason’s and ended up in prison because his backup didn’t realize that the fire was on purpose.
Thankfully, Mason’s signal was pretty obviously purposeful. A minute or so after the man vanished, he came crashing down onto the group, crushing one of the trio and giving another a good concussion, Home-Run style.
“Oh, hey!” Keith chirped, eyes wide. “I think that was the signal!” His brain slowly catching up, the hobo pressed his eye to the scope, took a moment to aim, then blasted a solid shot into his target’s chest. The bullet struck home, digging into the left side of the man’s chest and spurting red. The CEDA worker gagged, staring blankly down at his wound before dropping to his knees, then simply falling over.
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Post by Moro Ashford on Mar 10, 2010 9:35:59 GMT -5
After Tara's sudden arrival, several things followed in quick succession.
As the two women were led down the hall, there was a sudden flurry of movement from behind them, followed swiftly by the strangled cry of one of the CEDA men and a deep *thunk*. Seconds later, there was the sound of gunfire, and the agent directly at Moro's left gurgled, swayed, and fell.
Moro made a quick mental count. She had seen three fall; one under Mason's weight and the other beneath the force of his bat, the other the victim of an unseen assailant's bullet. That left the man holding the rifle to her back, who, unfortunately, had kept his head and had wheeled his captor around to face Mason, who had fixed him with a murderous look.
The mechanic squirmed under the painful grip the agent held on the back of her neck. "Give it up," she gasped. "You're dead unless you put down your gun." Her silver eyes flickered up to Mason's face, a silent apology etched on her features. Behind her, her captor's breath wheezed through the suit.
He shifted on his feet, clenching and re-clenching his grip on Moro's neck, eyes never leaving the bat-wielding survivor. Finally;
"Fine!" in a swift movement, the man shoved the woman away from him and threw down his weapon, raising his hands over his head. "Fine; y'all win."
He watched Moro stumble back to her feet, his tongue darting nervously out over his lips. "Tell you what," he said, taking a step backwards. "Y'all let me go, I'll take the chopper and forget I ever saw any of you here. No one has to know."
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Post by Mason Breaker on Mar 12, 2010 14:44:43 GMT -5
"Y'all let me go, I'll take the chopper and forget I ever saw any of you here. No one has to know."
Now he was begging? Cowardly. But the irishman had questions that he wanted answered, and this guy was not going anywhere until they were answered. And something told him that this guy wasn't being entirely honest.
Turning his attention to Moro for a moment, he offered her a gentle look and a pat on the shoulder before turning back to the man.
"Roy, Keith, get yourselves down here, cart this guy into the safe room and get him fixed up. Roy, don't try and intimidate him. Or kill him." He called, pointing to the man he had knocked with the bat. "Tara, you alright lass? Quite the fall you took."
"And you." He pointed to the CEDA man, "I've got a few questions for you. Four questions, four answers. You tell us what we want to know, you get home free. You lie at all, and....." He let the threat hang in the air. Walking towards him, he grabbed him by his covered head and steered him towards the safe room.
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